We Dont Belong Together
by Zombi3xPuppy
Summary: Germany reluctantly visits Italy on his birthday after many hateful years spent apart. What will happen between the apologetic stern german and the betrayed and hurt italian when both are forced to confront their past conflicts? FailSummery Dx
1. Chapter 1

This is an RP me and my friend Alice_Stein~

If you like this I will post as frequently as I can, check out her stories aswell I really enjoy reading them :)

So please comment rate and enjoy~

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><p>There was a slight tinge of discomfort in the night air as Germany sat still pondering the heavy thoughts that burdened his mind. "Gah…" he mumbled bitterly sitting back in his chair eyeing the word on his book blankly as he flipped pages every few moments. He pretended to read so his brother would pester him like usual, even as the annoying nuisance he was Bruder new when not to bother his brother fearing a nasty bruise to add to the collection. Germany say back sighing with discontent as he awaited the day to come. Apart of him shunned the idea of having any sort of fun in <em>that<em> place he was forced to go to tomorrow but yet another part of him cursed himself for even using the word "forced" to describe it to begin with. Ludwig thumbed his lower lip for a moment his expression a bit irritated at himself in particular. "How can you say such things about him… he might be as dense as board of wood but he still…," Germany paused for a moment to take in the bitter night air Berlin was so commonly known for. The snap of winter usually hit Germany hard, its unsavory side effects taking a great told on the nation but yet like anything else it in its own way was beautiful. Germany watched the stars longingly searching for a bit of warmth in the frigid night air. His attempts proved fruitless as he felt himself shiver once again as an acrimonious wind howled past. Finally finishing his train of thought the German added the word "warm…" It was true the Italian was indeed very warm, the attributes showing in not only his personality but also in his lush country scape. The air was always so inviting and atmosphere so carefree and simplistic, something this German wasn't able to enjoy very often. Something _this_ German craved. The opportunity was well invited in the secret part of Germany's mind, the one always covered by constant composure. Ludwig sighed once again in relief finally easing his restless thoughts, his mind numbing to the enticing grasp of sleep.

Next Day~

The night seemed to slip away as quickly as it came, the harsh rays of light blinding Ludwig's lethargic eyes. "Augh…" he grumbled getting out of his chair, what a horrible place to sleep. Before leaving the room Germany cracked his back and seethed in slight agony, the situation only seemed to worsen as he remembered what day it was. "Bruder get up." Germany snapped looming over the older man's bed. "How messy…" he mentally noted staring at the strange objects which cluttered Prussia's dorm. "Its Italy's birthday wake up we'll be late," Germany urged once again finally mustering up some response in his brother's deadened sleep. Pulling on his uniform he straightened it out, fixing his iron cross so it aligned up with the white piped color of his green military suit. "You're wearing that…?" Prussia growled, his brother was awfully boring. "Yes. Get dressed or I leave without you," Germany sharply responded his patience no matter how little would always be tested by his dedicated Germanic relative. Once they arrived at Italy's door Germany knocked hard, his breath hitching in anticipation as he waited for his ally to open the door. "…Nervous west? You sure do have some weird thing for that kid… what did you get him anyway?" Prussia mocked desperately trying to get under his younger brothers skin. "Nothing of your concern and I do not! Now hush your voice isn't appealing to me today!" Germany yelled unrestrainedly in response, just as Prussia hoped for. Germany continued to brush his hair back nervously, it had been awhile since he'd seen his old friend Italia.

Abruptly awakened, Italy practically rolled off the bed when he heard the sonorous knock. He thought over all the things that would be the source of the loud knock, until it suddenly dawned on him. "Ludwig's here! Yay!" he thought as he rushes downstairs to get the door, forgetting he was still clothed in his pajamas. Romano, who had just woken up as well, walked out of his room to see what was going on. Feliciano hurriedly opens the door and hugged both Germans. "Ciao Germany! Ciao Prussia! I'm so glad you two could come! It's so nice to see you! he greeted happily. Germany was finally here! "I'm so glad he could make it. I'm so happy!" he thought with a big smile on his face. He ushered the pair of brothers in as he suddenly remembered something. "I forgot to change." he thought, slight unnoticeable pink twinge painting his cheeks. "I should excuse myself, what a great way to start the day, Feliciano." he thought as he sheepishly excused himself. He quickly changed into a familiar, memory bringing outfit. "It's been a while since I've worn my blue military garb...It brings back some pretty good memories back!" he thought, fiddling with the small iron cross. Feliciano quickly returns to his two guests. "It's really been awhile, huh Ludwig?" smiles the little Italian to his old ally.

Once Feliciano's form was in full view Ludwig's eyes fixated on the small black Germanic medal which gleamed in the bright sunlight. A small thought burned through his anxious mind as he tried to fully grasp and register the sight. "He still… has that uniform…" Germany painfully thought his blue eyes not daring to look away from the painful yet wonderful sight. "Not that I mind a half dressed Italia but… that uniform fit you well. Italian with a little hint of German, saucy West, no?" Gilbert teased gripping the cross lightly. Red eyes met glaring blues as Germany was clearly not amused by this display. "Shut it Bruder…" Ludwig snapped gripping the collar of his pestering brothers shirt. Prussia couldn't help but meekly comply but not before letting a hoarse snicker escape his throat. The taller German straightened out his own valiant medal eyeing it longingly. Letting his eyes drift back to Italy's attire a small groan emitted from the German. The uniform had brought back some of the most painful memories, something so unsavory couldn't possibly be displayed front and center today… any day but today. "Brings back old times…" Germany mumbled eyes quickly diverting from Italys soft brown orbs. "Ah.."

Feliciano noded to his old ally's mumbled response, then looked to each brother and silently asked himself what drove him to choose this outfit. "Ludwig's outfit brought so many memories back, good and bad, and I guess I longed to feel the familiar fabric cloak me. Obviously I chose the wrong time to bring back cursed memories." He softly wondered if his own older brother had went back to sleep, hopefully. "Lovino shouldn't be so cross with Ludwig. Why must he act like this with him?" the small man wondered silently. "All we need is Kiku and the gang's back together..." he mused near silently. From his room, Lovino wondered why the only sounds occupying whatever room they're in were the two Germans and not his brother's annoying cries of "VE~!" and rambled giggles about pasta. "Why must Feliciano be so silent?" he inwardly groaned. Despite his better judgement, Lovino got back out of his bed, changing to jeans and a tee, and walked downstairs. "Now, I promised him I wouldn't argue with that macho potato bastard, so I'll keep my mouth shut." he decided silently as he walked into the room. "Ciao." chimed the bored, calm voice of the Southern Italia. The Northern half looked like he wanted to panic. "Oh, Lovi! Please don't argue with Ludwig! Please!" Feliciano silently begged his brother. Lovi proceeded to ignore both Germans, fulling the silent plea.

The second Italian man's eyes were more sharp then Feliciano's honey colored orbs, giving Ludwig a whole other reason to dread this trip. Germany nodded his head with a bit of hesitation, knowing truly the deep distain his vivacious ally's brother had for him the "potato bastard." Icy blue eyes scanned over the brooding Italian for a moment letting his mind indulge for a moment in those troublesome yet comforting moments he once had. Ludwig's mind focused on that one blissful noise Italy made at any sort of moment. "Ve." He repeated to himself, a slight awkward smile crossing his stern face. His brother only looked at him with question as the uncomfortable silences became too tense to not notice. "Ah West, stop spacing out! Its starting to get creepy…" Prussia murmured slapping his younger yet taller brother on the back. "Ah, S-sorry" Ludwig responded a bit shaken by the sudden jab, his tone only made Gilberts become more unsure of his brothers state of mind. "Kiku should be coming soon, it would be nice too see us all together again after such a long time," Ludwig sighed a bit more lightheartedly then before. Truth be told he enjoyed seeing Italy in his old uniform, it fit him well, more clean and neat then his usual sloppy attire but mostly because the nostalgic memories the sight of the blue suit brought back were savored by the blonde desperately. He longed to sit with the Italian man once again, push his hugs away, close his book to check up on a frantic Feliciano. It all seemed to vivid at the sight of such a simple attire, and yet as soon as Ludwig looked away the memories once again faded into a painful abyss.

After realizing his stubborn older brother isn't starting anything, Feliciano sighs a silent sigh of relief, mumbling a soft "ve~" with a little smile. "Lovi is probably the reason that Ludwig doesn't visit much. I wish that he didn't have such a grudge against him, Ludwig did nothing to him!" he mentally whines. "It'll be nice to see him again." Feliciano agrees quietly. After a little over fifteen minutes, a soft knock is heard. A big smile threads itself onto Italy's face as he went to get the door. "Kiku! It's so nice to see you! Ciao!" he perkily greeted the Asian man. Italy stepped aside to let Japan in as he softly smiles back with a bow. "Hello Feliciano, it's also nice to see you too." Kiku replies, following the perky nation back to the kitchen where everyone seemed to reside. His brother must've left to go spend the day with Antonio picking tomatoes. "Hello Ludwig, Gilbert. It's nice to see you both again." Japan greets them, bowing to one German then the other. Unlike his other two allies, Kiku had worn his casual clothes rather his old uniform. "Why are Germany and Italy wearing their uniforms? It brings back bittersweet memories...But these memories aren't very good ones to remember on a joyful day." he thought curiously.

Piercing blue eyes scanned the quiet man as he casually greeted them both. It was a bit disappointing the man wasn't wearing his usual pressed white suit but Germany more then understood the multiple reasons. "Looks like Wests a bit over dressed," a low cackle emitted from the pale blonde's throat. "Bruder." Germany humorously scolded smacking him on the back of the head. "Ah damn it West! Your messing up my awesome hair!" Prussia grunted rubbing the sore spot which throbbed from the whack. "Hello Japan," Germany greeted halfheartedly almost as if they were meeting for the first time. "So Italy why don't you show us the house," Prussia growled cheekily, smirking as he eyed the short Italian man. Germany looked sharply back at the german and murmured "Behave."

Feeling a bit unnerved by the paler blonde's stare, Italy nods. "Sure!" he replies. "Why does Prussia want to see the house? It's a bit odd... Oh well." he quietly thought as he led the trio through his home. Never once did the curiosity leave the Italian's mind as he showed the men room after room, being close to near silent while keeping his usual smile painted flawlessly among his expression. "Germany's being so quiet, I wonder why? Is it just because of Prussia? Or did I do something wrong?" he thought as he showed them his room. His thoughts were wandering, making the small Italian space out and drift away from his allies. Memories and past nightmares flashed in front of his eyes, making him unaware to the curious gazes he was receiving.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 :D

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><p>"Doitsu~! Doitsu~! What is that your writing?"<p>

Crack.

"Doitsu… why does it say that?"

Crack.

"G-Germany, what are y-you doing?"

Crack.

"Please stop it hurts… Wh-What did I do to make you angry?"

Crack.

"I don't understand! Why are you doing this Germany! It hurts and were supposed to be… allies"

Crack.

"S-stay away! I… I hate you!"

Crumble.

There moments laid dormant deep within the German's guilty conscious as he listened halfheartedly to the Italy's mumbling. It all seemed so far away yet why did the vivid memories repeat themselves, tormenting Ludwig with the mere mention of Italy's name. Betrayl was a shameful part of their close relationship, almost tainting it completely. With each passing day Germany watched his Italy wither as he desperately tried to please his allie. With every loss a deeper wound was cut into the Italian man's pride or what little he had left in it. It was just, it had to be. Germany couldn't bare to carry him on his shoulders anymore, not during a war like this. If he wanted to win this godforsaken battle he would need to rid himself of his pitiful "friend." Germany's mind paused on that word. "Friend.." he said again, eyes wincing from the sheer pain. How could a "friend" destroy his ally? How could I friend neglect and punish his ally for accidental mishaps. No Germany wasn't a friend… not in those says.

The small Italian man turned completely silent, mind overrun by painful memories. His hand wanders unconciously to the Germanic medalion, fingers wrapping around the small, cold cross. Why did he keep it? His brother tried to dispose of it, but he stopped him. It was a gift. A gift from what was considered a valued comrade. The pain the German caused still filled his dreams, but he still considered the stoic blonde a friend, no matter what. His brother told him to not be friends with him, to even attempt to wage war, but it was never done; Veneziano never did obey Romano. Despite being loyal, the small Italian lacked a significant amount of obedience to follow orders and was unfortunately too weak. But he tried. He tried to follow orders. He tried to fight. But his weakness made him useless. Forgetting everyone in the proximity, a tear, a single, perfect, crystal tear, creeped down his cheek. Another followed its mate down the other cheek until he was silently crying. He made no sound as big, fat droplets of the salty liquid ran down his cheeks, landing with little "plops" in miniscule puddles. The air surrounding the quartet was so still and thick with tension, you would need a butcher knife to cut it.

Crimson orbs focused silently on the Italian man's distraught expression. The glance was quick, minute, but it was all Prussia needed to analyze the docile man's tear stained face. It was obvious now why the tension in the room grew more and more, uncontrollably suffocating any sort of hopes to salvage this disheartening reunion. Prussia watched the tears fall as they created a steady beat against the hard floor. As his Germanic brother watched the Italian break down from the sheer anxiousness, Germany kept himself lost in thought. The tormenting memories laid stagnant in his mind and yet, he was no longer absorbed in his own self-pity. Ludwig pondered for a moment, his deep feelings for Italy. It had never been sexual or even crossed the line of "friends" and yet denying the fact of attraction to the man seemed more unbearable with each passing day. If it wasn't for the sharp jab Germany felt in his side, he wouldn't have noticed Italy's shaking form, ready to burst out into true hysteria any moment. "Ouch," he growled glaring at his mischievous brother. An agitated gaze met his sibling's as he waited for some explanation. With a slight nod of the head, Prussia motioned Germany to look at the Italian hoping that West would show some sort of compassion once again with his ally. Ludwig's expression morphed into a painful scowl, feeling his heart sink deeper within his chest cavity. "Italy…' he mumbled quietly as Feliciano's body quivered wanting some sort of release. Making a rash decision, unlike Germany's usual code of conduct, he quickly walked over and grabbed the italian's hand tightly pulling him in another direction away from the small crowd of guests. "come on," he commanded unphazed by the contact.

No reply came from the smaller man as he silently followed, legs trembling and cheeks stained thoroughly with tears making their mark over the cracked and broken mask the Italian man tried to keep up for protection from jabbing remarks. Italy had cried before, multiple times in his existence, but these tears were unlike the tears past shed. These tears were all the troubles and worries Feliciano had been too insecure to share and had bottled up for only the Lord knows how long. Tears that were feared to be shed. Tears that had welled up in the Italian's honey orbs at the wrong time, held back to prevent them from evolving and shapeshifting into body racking sobs. "He is going to punish me. Again...I have cried at the wrong time. Again." he thought numbly. Shifting uneasily on his feet, the lone Asian watched as the Germanic man led the tearful country away, like a child throwing a tantrum in a sea of people. Kiku wanted to stop them, to demand them to stay put and explain everything, but that would make him more of the outcast he felt like among the western nations he had once called his allies. "How did this all happen? I wish it was the same as before we broke apart..." Japan though painfully. Never did a single word slip past the silently distraught Italian's soft, pink lips as the strong blonde led him away from the other German and the quiet Asian. Feliciano was deathly silent, something that was an plain indicator that there something was bothering the usually exuberant, silly, joyfully boisterous nation.

With every step the plated soles on Germany's boots peirced through the intense silence, reminding them of the disattachment they both felt towards one another. As fingers writhed beneath his gloved hands the german gripped tighter causing a tremor of pain to seep into Italy's already distressed thoughts. Making a sharp turn Germany's pace slowed finding this place far enough away from the small crowd. It was now all too clear to Ludwig why his once ally was now sobbing from his mere presense. "fear." he growled painfully in his head, unable to look or say anything at the moment. He could still feel Feliciano try to pull away desperatly, truely fearing the brutish german man. "Stop." Germany growled, glaring at the man as he pushed him agiasnt the hallway wall. Germany pressed his hand agiasnt the wall preventing this clumbsy man from escaping but this seemed all too much for the smaller man to handle. Tears increased in volume as germany continued to stare, face as stern and composed as ever. Ludwig winced in irratation as he remembered a similar senario as to this one long ago. No words dared to escape Ludwigs mouth, unable to bare witness to any more of Italy's distraught tears. The blonde let his head swing down as his eyes focused on the floor. A few peices of hair now fell out of place but it seemed Germany no longer cared. Ludwig shook with anger, angered with italy, angeredd with his damn crying, but mostly angered with himself. Feliciano continued to writhe under his ex allys strong grip causing Germany to push him back even harder agiasnt the wall. "Stop!" he snarled glaring at the weakened nation.

Italy cringed. The frustrated glare was enough to make him feel like he was going to get to calm down was hard with the blonde's piercing glare directed to no one but him. "What would Lovi do?" Feliciano mentally asked. He must have SOME stubborn rage like trait hidden deep down that he shared with the Southern Italian. His thoughts slowly focused on how the southern half would react, but not how he wouldn't cry as much as Italy was right now. The buried anger that even the Italian himself didn't know he had rushed to his honey eyes and made them darker, feeding the slowly growing will to get away. Something had changed in the smaller man since their last encounter, something that reminded the blonde of an angered Romano. A scowl fixed itself among the tear stained smaller man stared straight at the German, tears slowly dissolving. Romano had warned him to be careful the night before, and as he promised, Italy kept a gun slyly stashed away among his person. His gaze darkened more and more, shapeshifting into a fierce glare that he could only muster when someone was insulting his beloved pasta. "Leave me alone." growled the weak but passionate nation. He writhed furiously in Germany's grip. He was cracking, his silly, carefree nature melting away like snow. All normal instincts melted with his carefree nature as he slipped his hand down to his boot. "You are not the boss of me, you are not my boss." he snarled, finally escaping the strong grip and pulling a gun from his boot. Holding the gun up with two hands, he pointed it fearlessly at the brutish blonde, the warmth and fear escaping his gaze altogether. "I invite you and Prussia to come celebrate my birthday, this is the worst damn gift anyone could ask for!" he barked. His angered gaze met the furstrated yet surprised gaze of the Germanic nation. Darkened honey orbs piercing icy blue ones. He had enough abuse, he wasn't going to be pushed around anymore.

Shock settled in bitterly, claiming any sort of normalcy and quickly washing it away. "W-What are you doing?" Germany barked back, confused and infuriated by the Italians foolish choice of self could only stand in astonishment as his once docile friend had transofrmed into somthing more serious, somthing unknown to Ludwig. Folding his fingers into a large fist Germany clentched his jaw biting down hard on his 's word drove deeper and deeper into an already open wound. Vivid memories flooded back as the words were too similar to ignore. It was true now. Italy was indpendant, stable and fully capable of fighting his own battles. Their eyes locked, sandy orbs meeting a cold blue gaze, a fearless look spread across Ludwigs stern face. "Put it down..." the blonde growled knowing all to well what the response was going to be.

"No." a simple response to the command. "No, I won't put it down." Slowly, hurt slithered into his voice unwantedly, nearly erasing all the stubborn anger he had just summed up. "I won't be pushed around anymore. I won't be called weak by the other nations anymore." he said, the slight surprise hurt softening his voice. "I won't let anyone, not even you Ludwig, push me around. That was the past, this is now." he softly growled. "Why didn't take the gun away? He would've." the small Italian thought, staring defiantly at the taller man. He was defying his order as simply as if he had simply asked for a pen. Not once in this pained stare down did Italy's gaze falter. He didn't want repeat history; the pain the German caused him to slowly start cracking. Feliciani had once tried to convinced himself that the pain was only caused due to the stress of war. But he knew Germany was just tired of Italy altogether.

"Italia!" Germany barked, his body becoming more tense. Gloved hands were still balled up into large fists, squeezing hard with restraint. The italian's words were sharp, unexpexcted but most of all... the truth. It was hard to beilve the once carefree man was not standing in front of him weapon in hand and finger dangerously close to the trigger. There wasnt an once of compassion left in the docile italian's honey colored eyes leaving Germany in distain. Letting his hands drop to his side Ludwigs body relaxed, analyzing the words carefully. Tempted, Germany took one step foward waitig for his enemys reaction. Italy only held the gun out a bit more, a warning not to come any closer. "I- I call your bluff," germany stated bluntly. "If you were really willing to shoot you would have done so... a long time ago." Taking a few more steps Germany paused, eyes locking with the one who showed him the most affection. "Go ahead." Germany urged halfheartdly, his boots clicking agiasnt the hard wood floor. With every step Ludwig noticed the slight tremble in Italys once steady hand. He no longer had the advantage.

His hand started to tremble, truly not wanting to shoot the tall man. He took one step back with every advancing step of the german, glare slowly starting to falter. He know what Germany was doing. He was enclosing the small italian into a corner, leaving him no escape from his punishment. His finger started to get closer to the trigger, when suddenly a image came to mind. It was not negative or painful, at least not in an emotional way. The memories of all the GOOD times they had spent together was slowly flooding his conscious. With pained sorrow replacing the previous emotion in his gaze his hand started to tremble a little more, eyes tinted with pain and sorrow almost highlighted by more tears. "No! I won't cry! That'll prove that I haven't changed!" he thought. The thought left his mind unprocessed, instincts taking over for him as he pulled the trigger. The bullet nearly grazed the Germanic nation's arm, shattering the silence and a small vase. His head hung down low, frowning deeply. He lost.

It took only mere seconds to prove Germanys theory wrong. A loud snap was heard, followed by a sharp pain which trailed quickly throughout Germany's arm. The blonde german cursed under his breath, hissing from the intense burning which now enveloped the sensitive area. Clutching his arm, he recoiled back, truly startled by the man's unhesitant reaction. Clenching his jaw to suppress the now unbareable pain, Ludwig's eyes reluctantly glanced over at his wound. Flesh and cloth had been ripped seamlessly off leaving nothing but red. Crimson which now spread, staining the material of his uniform and leaving a stain on both his clothes and heart. An indignant gaze met those honey colored eyes, the eyes he melted at the sight of so long ago. They were nothing like the ones from the past, so warm and accepting. These were wounded, hardened eyes, eyes of a man who was betrayed.

"Germany… Why?"

"Because I cant win with you, your just a hindrance… You have no value to me…."

Those words, once he said with such certainty had now burned themselves deep within the shame he felt. The eyes he saw that day were not of anything he had ever seen. The italian did not cry that day, his gaze didn't even waver from the tall germans form. He only stared…

He stared with eyes searching for the Germany he once knew, the Germany who would hug him and say everything would be okay. The Germany who would have fought tooth and nail to save him. As the he only stared back with an unsympathetic gaze, Germany saw Italy's confused wounded expression twist into something else. As his eyes finally averted towards the ground, the small man fell to his knees. There was nothing left in him to fight this war anymore, nothing left to call and beg Germany to take him back. There was simply nothing.

"Io non sono niente…" the Italian whispered, hanging his head down low. Germany couldn't understand those few words well, so they truly meant to him. Turning around he walked off, leaving his once ally to writhe in his own self ruin.

"Du bist nichts!" (you are nothing) Germany snarled, a twinge of pain crawling up his spine. Words repeated from such a long time ago. Words that will stick with the german man forever. Words which he would always loath. Words which he disagreed with more then ever. Those words were now emitting from his very own throat.

His words stung. Though Italy could not understand the German very well, he knew that they were confirming his worthlessness. "I should have listened to Romano." he thought as the blonde man left him to probably return to the small group and drag Prussia home. Tears started to drip down his cheeks again. Slowly, he started to whisper the song he had wrote for the tall man long long ago, words stabbing and ripping apart his heart.

"You hurt my feelings, you pierced my heart, and I cry as you depart. Leaving a man in pain, a man who's nothing, no matter how hard I tried to live up to your approval. I earned your disdain." he whispers, unknowingly making it rhyme. He clutched his heart could swear he felt it break. "Why did you hurt me more? On my birthday too? I should've never tried to rekindle anything with you or Japan. It's clear you both don't care." He slowly developed enough nerve to call his brother home. A simple text was sent with an instant reply. Romano would be home in a minute. The smaller man sat in the corner, the darkest of the hall, just waiting for his stubborn brother. A few minutes later a door being slammed open was heard. Then a loud, angered cry of "VENEZIANO!" was heard.

"If that dumbass macho potato hurt you again, I'm going rip out his intestines and blend them to mush!" the angered southern italia snarled, marching upstairs to find the younger Italian. He found his brother in the dark corner, tears streaming. "oh. It's on now." the elder italian thought, first checking to see if Feliciano was okay.

"D-Don't do a-anything stupid, f-fratello." the younger man whimpered.

"It's okay." was the man's reply before stomping off to find who hurt his brother. Rage flushed his face and formed a fierce scowl. If looks could kill, Germany would've died a million times. Japan wondered intensely when he had heard the cry of a gun. "Who shot wh-my goodness... Italia shot Germany san..." the Asian thought as the angered and wounded German came into view.


End file.
